


your wick in the air and your feet in the fetters

by weird_bird (2weird4)



Category: DCU (Comics), The Authority
Genre: Casual Sex, F/F, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-25 23:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13223691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2weird4/pseuds/weird_bird
Summary: From the look in Angie’s eyes, the same thought strikes her at the same moment. “No. Really?”A gleam in her eye, Angie shakes her magnificent head, and her hair snakes down her shoulders.





	your wick in the air and your feet in the fetters

**Author's Note:**

> so. i did not expect to be frantically writing fanfic for a 1999 comic before midnight on new year's eve. but here we are.
> 
> content warnings for smoking, alcohol, language (+ one slur, used affectionately), rough sex, vaginal and anal penetration.
> 
> title from ["australia"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OHTSxw6zN1E) by the shins.

Hand in pocket, Jenny blows out a plume of smoke and then rests her forehead against the cool not-glass of the Carrier’s windows. Iridescent forms twist just beyond, tossing shimmering shadows against the ship’s curved walls.

“What crawled up your ass and died?” Angie’s distorted reflection smirks back at her.

“The ghosts of Christmas past,” Jenny fires back. 

Angie pulls a face. “How do they feel?”

Blowing out a lungful of smoke, Jenny snorts. “Quite slippery. I thought you were exploring the shops?” With a lull in universe-bending calamity, she sent the team out to explore the city far below and unwind, remaining as undercover as possible, of course. She might be the boss from hell, but it’s the holidays, after all. One hundred Christmases gone. She shakes her head to herself.

“Jack’s having way too much fun haggling, and last I saw the Midnighter, he was sharing a scorpion on a stick with Apollo.”

“The stuff of romance, those two.” Jenny’s lips curl. “Shen?”

“Getting coffee. I wanted something harder myself,” she explains, lifting her glass, full of something dark and thick.

“That’s not motor oil, is it?” Jenny asks with some suspicion.

Laughing, Angie holds the glass out to her. “Swap with me and find out.”

After she passes the cigarette over between two fingers, she takes a swig. Burn enough to make her hair stand on end. “Hm.” Impressed, Jenny gives the drink a second look. “Do I want to know?”

“Nah.” The chrome shell uncovers Angie’s lips so she can wrap them around the cigarette and take a puff. She has a gorgeous mouth, Jenny has always thought, plump and bitable. She turns knowing eyes on Jenny. “So we’re not going to talk about why you’re hanging around, feeling sorry for yourself?”

“I’m older than your grandmother, Spica,” Jenny retorts. “If I want to throw a one-woman pity party, by God, I will.”

“Thought we killed God,” Angie says snarkily. 

“I’m just not--” _ready to let go._ “--in the mood.” December 1999. Almost time to go. Jenny isn’t going to talk about it. She’s said goodbye to too many friends.

Dropping the cigarette, Angie grinds it down under a hard sole. “I’m in a mood, too.”

She pulls her eyes up from the crumpled cigarette, missing its acrid heat already. “Yeah?” 

She nabs the drink from her and downs that, too. “Yeah.” Aggressively enough that Jenny almost expects a headbutt instead, she snatches up her lapels and yanks her into a kiss.

Against her mouth, Jenny mutters, _”Bitch.”_ With a sharp smile, she grabs her arse to bring her closer. The cool curves of metal in her palms are a bit of a funny texture in a sex context, but she’s fucked weirder. She barely finishes the thought before the shell melts back, leaving warm, bare muscle in her hands. With a groan, she lands a light slap on a tight cheek and squeezes again. 

Angie hisses as she wrestles with her jacket one-handed. “Damn it, Sparks, you really have to wear three layers all the time? Fucking frustrating.”

The pop of a seam makes her grimace, and Jenny wriggles out of it herself. “Yeah, you walking around starkers all the time is really a picnic for me.” Angie hardly reacts when Jenny plucks the glass from her sweaty palm and chucks it across the room somewhere.

“I’ve seen you looking.” Angie hooks her thumbs in her suspenders and draws them down her shoulders. “You like it.”

“Except I need all the blood in my brain and not between my legs when I’m doing my job.” This right now, though, this is good. Fucking and fighting back to back, that’s what keeps Jenny coming back for more. What her life’s all about, world peace aside. Jenny’s fingers rub up Angie’s pussy as Angie rolls her hips into her, apparently not minding the rough fabric up against her clit. When Jenny slaps her arse again, Angie moans.

Snugging up against her front, Angie sneaks her hands up her black tee. Her eyes widen when she finds her braless. “Damn, boss.” She palms her breasts, thumb circling her nipple. 

“Two layers,” Jenny corrects smugly, albeit through her teeth. “Your hands are _freezing.”_

“Ah, hang on.” Half of Angie’s body heats up to a much more comfortable temperature, almost absentmindedly, the other part of her attention on sucking Jenny’s neck.

Jenny’s eyebrows lift. “Handy parlor trick.” She tilts her hips forward so Angie can pop the button on her trousers, and her brows knit when Angie shoves her warm hand down inside.

“You’re wearing underwear?” Angie lifts her head from her neck, disappointed.

Jenny sucks her lower lip into her mouth, fast and filthy, before she murmurs back, “I’m a professional.”

Angie laughs and mouths up to her jaw again, working her fingers up her folds. “A professional _something.”_ She pinches her clit lightly between two fingers and rubs the sides up-down-up-down as it fattens with need, one finger tucking itself inside her.

“Oh shit, Ang.” Bracing her heel against the wall, trousers slipping down her hips, Jenny works two wet fingers into her. As she fucks her cunt, she thrusts her hips in the same rhythm, head rolling back against the curve of the wall. “Oh _shit.”_

“Yeah?” Angie’s hand smooths around to brace on her lower back, and she shudders against her when Jenny’s wrist angles up nicely, letting her fuck in deep. 

“Yeah.”

Teeth bared, she humps Angie’s hip, leaving a long wet trail. “Fuck, fuck me.” A groan, and she stiffens and comes.

Jenny pushes herself upright, watches her as she sighs and settles. “Need a moment?” She’s itching just to take Angie’s hand and ride it til she comes, too, but she was raised with _some_ manners way back when.

“Mmn.” Angie thumps to her knees. Her hands frame her hips and she licks a long stripe from arse to cunt. Then she sucks at her clit, flicks it with her tongue the same way she teased it with her finger. 

Pleasure beats incessantly at her belly, and Jenny fucks her face without ceremony, grinds pelvis into her nose without shame. Her hand buries itself into the wiry tangle of her hair.

On her haunches, Angie slides a finger up inside herself. Kneeling forward, still eating pussy like it’s going out of style, she works the finger up Jenny’s arse. 

That extra edge of stimulation does it for Jenny, and she tips over the edge. After, she lolls against the wall, wanting that cigarette again. 

Angie’s still on the floor, rubbing herself almost idly. “You wanna go again, ancient one?”

Jenny kicks her and finds her foot’s gone to sleep. “Be polite to your bloody elders.” She stretches. “Yeah, maybe. What’ve you got?”  
Angie shrugs, looking up at her. As Jenny’s hand toys absently with Angie’s hair, a strand wraps around her fingers with a mechanical whir.

From the look in Angie’s eyes, the same thought strikes her at the same moment. “No. Really?”

A gleam in her eye, Angie shakes her magnificent head, and her hair snakes down her shoulders, spilling over the rounds of her breasts. 

Jenny grins, crooked with delight, and wraps her hands up in the sleek masses. “Are you going to--whoa there, Engineer!” The strands wrap around her thighs and hoist her back up against the wall again. Jenny slaps her palms against the walls, and she laughs aloud when the strands twine around her arms and grip her wrists tight. “All right, you’ve got me.”

“I’ve got you,” Angie agrees playfully. She steps up to her and slides her hands up under the tee Jenny never quite managed to lose, humming. Looking pleased with herself, she squeezes her breasts together. Two tentacle-like strands pinch the fabric to keep her shirt up and expose her chest.

She shivers. “So what are you going to do with me, then?” 

Angie slides her hand back down and cups her, making her hips jump into her hand. “I’m going to fuck you,” she says, matter-of-fact. That’s her Engineer.

Turning her head, she eyes the strands with some doubt. Just as long tentacles sprout from Angie’s wrists, too, they all smooth over and warm, making Jenny relax. Convenient, that. “If you’re sticking glorified metal rods up my cunt, you better lube up.”

Angie shrugs. 

Jenny huffs. “All talk, huh?” She turns her ankle and points her toes at the pile of her trousers. “Lube in there. Oh, shut it,” she says when Angie side-eyes her. “You never know, yeah?” In her ninety-nine years, she’s had her share of shags in strange locale.

Squirting the lube into her hands, Angie lets a few of the strands twist together and smooth out, then coats them thoroughly. The ones grasping Jenny’s thighs spread her legs for her, and two little ones creep down and spread her pussy lips. Angie’s thumb rubs her clit to that now-familiar tempo, and Jenny’s hips twitch a few times before a strand comes across her middle and immobilizes her.

She pants and can do nothing but watch as one long tentacle pushes inside her. “Oh _fuck!”_ It’s thick and unyielding, and Jenny squeezes down hard around it, dripping. 

Angie’s palm flattens on her abdomen as if she could feel it pressing into her, stuffing her cunt. “You should see yourself right now.”

“I’m not the one with--bloody tentacles coming out of her head,” Jenny grumbles, stomach muscles jumping under her hand. With a faint whir, the tentacle starts to fuck her, bunching up and shoving inside. She nearly yells, head thumping back into the wall.

“Oh, hell, Jenny.” Angie mouths her jaw and gently pulls back the hood of her clit with a fingertip, touching her where she’s exposed and exquisitvely sensitive, making her hiss. 

The tentacles writhe around her dizzyingly, and Jenny closes her eyes, gasping. They wrench her arms above her head, fingers dangling limply, all tangled in them. It’s all she can do to grind down as they pound up into her, unrelenting. “This wins, um, insanest fuck of the--”

“Century?” Angie asks, hopeful, cupping her breasts as they bounce under the crumpled line of her shirt. 

Jenny cracks one eye open. “Ye- _year._ Fuck!” A tiny one draws circles around her hole, lubing it up. Above her head, her hands clench into fists. “Do it!”

Angie wets her hips and concentrates for a moment, lashes fluttering, before the strand winds slowly inside of her. She gives her a minute, then.

Grateful, Jenny takes that breather. She’s got metal tentacles crammed in both of her holes, and oh yeah, she’s up against the wall of her own fucking ship. All in all, not bad. She swallows and nods. 

One tentacle tightens around her where her waist nips in, holding her just so. Then Angie starts to thrust again, intense, arrhythmic, unpredictable. 

Jenny feels stretched so thin, feels so _fucked._ Her eyes roll back in her head, muscles bunching and releasing as she’s planted back into the wall with every thrust. She licks her wet lips, shuddering and groaning, over and over, until she comes _hard,_ thrashing in her bonds.

Angie pants, too, eyes glazing over. They’re nose-to-nose now, Angie’s full lips snagging hers in loose kisses as she comes down again. “Wanna stop?”

Jenny shakes her head, hair sticking to her sweaty face.

There’s something knowing in Angie’s face, something still so intuitive in the middle of their abandon. Reaching back, Angie pulls free the tie clinging to what’s left of Jenny’s ponytail, rakes her fingers through her damp hair.

“Turn--can I turn.” Angie complies, and Jenny rests her cheek against the wall, booted feet steady and apart on the floor. Tentacles wrap her legs like vines on a column, ankles to the crease of her thighs, sliding over her skin but never constricting. 

“Better?” Angie tucks her chin cheekily over her shoulder, sets her hips up against her arse.

“Oh, you have no idea.” Rounded tentacle tips rub over her nipples, up and down her clit and her folds, making tingles race through her body. She moans weakly.

“I’m starting to see the big fuss now, Jenny Sparks,” she comments casually, slinging an arm under her breasts as she starts to fuck her again, starting off slow enough to make her scream.

Jenny growls. “Shut up and fuck me, Engineer.” 

Angie laughs, grabs a handful of her hair, and fucks her right out of her maudlin old head.

Later, when they’ve cleaned up the cigarette butt and the shattered glass, Angie leans against the wall and watches her. “I know what’s eating you.”

“I got over it.” Jenny steps gingerly into one trouser leg, cunt and arse twinging with every tiny movement. 

“You got over it?” Angie repeats, searching her face. In Jenny’s white jacket over her silvery skin, she crosses her arms.

Jenny clips her other suspender in place. “Hand over the jacket.” It’s been a good run, and besides, it’s not over ‘til it’s over. “We have a team to round up, a world to save, and no time to waste.”


End file.
